“We’ll see!”
In a very few moments, M. de Villefort was astounded by the strength of the American youth, who seemed scarcely more than a boy. Once his fingers had closed on the ball, the man believed it safe in his possession, but he soon realized that he must fight if he would retain it, and he must fight as never before had he fought. Grappled in each other’s embrace, the men swayed and staggered about the room. They struck against pieces of furniture, which they upset. They glared into each other’s eyes, and panted as they fought.
Frank had clutched the man’s wrist, and his object was to pin De Villefort against the wall, and force him to return the ball. But the Frenchman was slippery, and it was not easy for Merry to carry out his plan. However, De Villefort had not the endurance to stand against the American youth, and he soon realized that his strength must give out, while Frank seemed as fresh and strong as at first.
“Fool!” panted the Frenchman. “I gave you the signal!”
“By accident, perhaps.”
“You know that is not possible!”
“And I know you have no right to the ball!”
“You are mad! Do you wish to share the fate of the Duke of Benoit du Sault?”
“His fate? Why, the papers say he died a natural death!”
“He died as others have died—and as you may die!”